


Attachment

by more_concept_than_reality



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: IFDrabble, International Fanworks Day, International Fanworks Day 2015, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, tea sipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 04:42:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3368273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/more_concept_than_reality/pseuds/more_concept_than_reality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i don't think i can do only 100 words sigh the struggle is real</p></blockquote>





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What was the point in becoming attached? Sherlock had done that before and resulted in the devastation of an animal's death. Redbeard. And as a kid, the loss had scarred him.

Sherlock knew nothing good ever came out of being attached to anything, because nothing lasted forever, so one day, you would lose it. He was certain he hated the feeling of loss and disappointment. His life after Redbeard, he tried to not become attached to anything or anyone. Not even his friends. Not even his family. Not even George... Gavin... Lestrade. They would all die whether Sherlock would be there for it or not.

Sherlock solved cases as a hobby, to fill up all the time he had until he died. He didn't care. He never cared. Well, he cared about being _right_ but that was only to taunt his older brother.

He pondered this one dull Monday morning. Every day was dull without a case. He was sat at the table in his dressing gown, frowning at nothing with his hands clasped against his mouth. He looked up at the sound of the pitter patter of feet against the wooden floor to reveal John buried beneath his own gown with drooped eyes, sipping from a mug of what he assumed to be tea, his suspicions were confirmed as a mug of his own was placed before him. He looked up as a silent thanks. John sat opposite him. Sherlock stared at him.

"You're doing that again?" John asked over the rim of his mug.

Sherlock frowned "I'm doing a minimal amount of things at the moment, John, most of which are necessary for basic human survival and I still don't know what you're-"

"The staring thing. Sherlock. You're doing the staring thing again." John rolled his eyes. _Fucking hell._

"I'm staring." Sherlock replied, deadpan.

"Yes, and It's _creepy_ , Sherlock." John paused to sip his tea "could do with more milk actually." He muttered absently before getting up to go back to the kitchen, mug in hand.

Sherlock watched him rub his eyes and sleepily get the milk from the fridge to pour into his hot drink. He sipped his own. It was good. _John cares._ He thought. _John always cares. He's like a great big caring machine._ He merely chucked at the thought. John amused him. He looked after Sherlock, and for what price? Sherlock was able to admit that his life would be constantly dull without John, he was almost grateful for the man. He also knew that despite his feelings for affection, if there was someone worthy enough in Sherlock's life to be attached to, that person would be John Watson.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't think i can do only 100 words sigh the struggle is real


End file.
